My Funny Valentine
by T'eyla Minh
Summary: In the spirit of the season, and to rub away those Valentine's Day blues... a silly shippy AU fic : Every possible pairing imaginable - well, more or less... and possibly a few nobody thought of... Complete!
1. Karaoke Clone

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MY FUNNY VALENTINE

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SUMMARY: It's that time of year again. Yup, it's Valentine's Day, so in the spirit of things, here's a fic in honour of the occasion! John attempts to teach Moya's crew all about Valentine's Day, with interesting results. (I apologise for the title… just consider that it was better than the original, "V-Day Fic"…)

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RATING: Let's go PG-13 to be safe. (There's… silly semi-slash at the end. Don't panic. It's just a joke by request of a very strange friend… barely slash at all, in fact…)

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SPOILERS/SETTING: Absolutely no spoilers (well, maybe a few for early episodes, but nothing major) and absolutely no setting either. Completely AU. Everyone is alive who was dead, and on Moya who is not. The cast for this includes: John, Aeryn, D'Argo, Rygel, Pilot, Chiana, Zhaan (yay!), Stark (yay again!), Crais (double yay!), Jool, and, of course, Harvey. I guess the characterisation varies between Seasons 1 to 3. Season 2 John and Aeryn, Season 1 Zhaan and D'Argo, Season anything Chiana, Season 3 Harvey, Crais, Jool and Stark… you get the idea.

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DISCLAIMER: Come on DK, I'm only having a little fun. Lemme play with 'em? Please? (Uh, yeah, they're not mine…)

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AUTHOR'S NOTES: I decided to do this then promptly forgot about it, should be doing my Farscape Horror Show fic, and realised I now have 10 days to do this one… Shippiness and silliness galore!! Look! NO ANGST!!! (Shipping wise, this has everything you can possibly think of - John/Aeryn, Chiana/D'Argo, Jool/Crais (tee hee), Zhaan/Stark, Pilot/Moya, Rygel/Rygel and possibly some surprises along the way!) Plus, it's a John-finally-tells-her fic!

As far as the AU situation goes, ignore all discrepancies and take everything as normal, or this'll make no sense. It's a game of let's pretend, a simple fantasy, and Lord knows we need something after all the damn angst of Season 3...

Enjoy!

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My Funny Valentine

© T'eyla Minh 2002

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CHAPTER ONE - Karaoke Clone

John Crichton lay back on his bunk and clicked off the tape recorder, before hurling it haphazardly onto a pile of clothes in the corner of the room. He sighed heavily, frustrated and bored. Nothing had happened for almost two weekens, not even any random aliens wanting to fight, eat, or generally dismember them. He'd give anything just to have Scorpius on his tail. Even Harvey was being unusually quiet.

That didn't last long. If John got bored, Harvey got bored. Harvey, however, had discovered ways to pass the time. Lately, he'd acquired several irritating tendencies, including singing off-pitch, tapping his feet in irregular rhythms (which, even though John couldn't actually feel them, were incredibly annoying), reciting the alphabet backwards (continually incorrectly, causing him to have to start over), or just muttering incoherently. Today, apparently, he'd chosen to blast out an awful rendition of "I Will Always Love You", in true, off-key, karaoke style.

John endured the verse, barely. When the neural clone hit the chorus, and missed by an agonising semi-tone, it was the last straw. He rolled over and promptly smacked his head into the pillow.

"HARVEY!!!"

The voice stopped, and John imagined himself face to face with him, in yet another surrounding dragged from his subconscious; this time, it was a grubby nightclub. John mentally plucked Harvey away from the microphone and dragged him behind a tacky spangled curtain.

"My song, John!" he protested.

"Your song, my ass, Harv! It's Whitney or nobody!"

The hybrid pouted. "I've got to pass the time somehow. Do you have any idea how tedious it gets in here?"

"If you don't like it, move out."

"You and I both know that's impossible. Still, I wish you'd exercise your mind more often." He sighed and brushed out the crease John had created in his tuxedo. "You used to at least think of Earth. All you ever think about now is Officer Sun."

John went a deep crimson and was tempted to deny it, then realised how futile it was. "So what?"

"It's _boring…_" He emphasised the last word, making it sound like the most heinous crime known to man.

"Those are my thoughts. Mine. Not yours." He looked annoyed. "And anyway, if you don't like 'em, don't listen in."

"It's rather difficult. You don't know how loudly you think."

"And you don't know how annoying you are," he retorted. "Now shut. The frell. Up!"

With that, John returned his consciousness to his quarters. For now, at least, Harvey had quietened again. It only lasted approximately three microts, and then the voice rang in his head again. "John…" He ignored him. "You can't pretend I'm not here. I have something to tell you."

John sighed again, and muttered, "What are you, the damn Phantom of the Opera inside my mind?" He thought himself back to Harvey and the nightclub. "Yes?"

"Do you know what the date is, in your time?"

"No frelling clue."

"It's February 6th."

"So?"

"What's in eight days?"

John thought for a microt. "February 14th." Harvey waited for the light to dawn. "Valentine's Day…" As expected, the immediate image to fill his brain was Aeryn, and a goofy grin crossed his face. "Harvey, you're a genius!" He planted a wet, sloppy kiss on the clone's head, and thought himself back to reality again. To himself, he repeated, "Valentine's Day…"


	2. Dominars Don't Have To Be Punctual

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CHAPTER TWO - Dominars Don't Have To Be Punctual

Two arns later, he had managed to gather the entire crew complement in Pilot's den (all excepting Rygel, who was late, as usual), and they were all sitting or standing around with expectant looks on their faces. Usually when John summoned them together, it was bad. It either meant he was going to do something completely fahrbot to get them all killed, or he was going to try and inflict one of his Erp customs on them. At the moment, he was leaning in front of Pilot, staring at the half open door.

Everyone had different ideas. Aeryn, standing just in front of Pilot, to his right, suspected that whatever it was he was going to suggest, it was going to involve her primarily. It always did. She was dreading it. She wondered what it might be this time. They weren't in immediate danger, so Scorpius wasn't a factor. It had only been two monens since the "Kris-mass" thing he had told them about, and she didn't think that it could come around again that quickly. And it had only been three monens since "Thangs-gebben". The only other thing it could possibly be was the ceremony he'd told her about for the day of his birth… and she knew, of course, that it wasn't for another two monens. She sighed impatiently as they waited for Rygel, and resigned to stay curious.

Chiana was sitting near Pilot, on the edge of his console. She was adamant, this time, that she wasn't going to get involved. She was fed up of visions of death and carnage, fed up of nearly getting killed, fed up of missions, and mightily frelled off with everything always involving her even when it didn't have to. Nope, this time, she was staying out of it… and if Jool would move her backside out of the way, she could frelling well leave…

Jool was leaning in front of the Nebari, unaware of the dagger look shooting into the back of her head. She yawned. John's lectures had a tendency to get boring after a while and she wasn't in the mood to listen today. As it transpired, she had the misfortune of having D'Argo's quarters on one side of her, and Crais' on the other, and both of the frellniks snored. She was running on very little sleep, and she was cranky, and John had that annoying "I've-got-a-secret-and-you're-all-gonna-love-it" look on his face. The situation wasn't helped by the fact that the frelling Nebari tralk kept frelling well kicking her in her frelling spine…

D'Argo, next to Aeryn, was in a stance that suggested anyone who came near him would instantly lose a limb. His arms were folded over his chest, his legs were shoulder width apart, and he wore a frown that would shroud a small city. He did not like having to wait for people. He also did not like any plan John was going to come up with.

Crais was pacing impatiently. He despised lateness, and, moreover, he wasn't too fond of Rygel. When Rygel was late, therefore, it was the pinnacle of annoyance. He sighed, reached the end of his current lap, spun on one foot, and marched in the other direction, repeating the process for the seventeeth time. Luckily, he didn't see the positively murderous look Aeryn threw at him, and didn't sense the impending punch he was going to get if he walked past her one more damn time…

Pilot, in the centre of the group, was too busy multi-tasking to really take much notice of everybody else. He was, however, becoming slightly irritated with Chiana, because every time she kicked her legs she edged further onto his console, and was being to obstruct vital controls. Being a gentle creature, though, Pilot resisted the urge to poke her, hard, and attempted to ignore her.

Zhaan and Stark were sitting together on the floor, passing time by sharing a mutual mental link. They wouldn't have even noticed if Moya starburst into a wall.

Finally, Rygel arrived. He hovered through the door without a care in the universe, stopped in the centre of the group, surveyed their various expressions, and simply said, "What?"

John grabbed him and ground a fist into his head lightly, like he would a child. "About frellin' time, Sparky!"

The Hynerian flailed his limbs around until he got a fair swipe at John, and managed to pull the hand from his head. "I do not plan my time around _you_, Crichton."

"You said it, Ryge," added Chiana, still absently kicking Jool in the back.

Aeryn bodily stopped Crais from pacing by throwing her arm out and creating a barricade, as Rygel settled near Zhaan. The ex-Captain removed Aeryn's arm from his vicinity and stepped towards John.

"Crichton, just hurry up and tell us what we're here for."

"Now we're all here," he said, looking pointedly at Rygel, "I will."

Everyone fixed their most interested expressions and got comfortable. Something told them this was going to be a long meeting.


	3. Who's With Me?

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CHAPTER THREE - Who's With Me?

"Okay, guys," said John. "All ready?" There were murmurs and nods from the collected crewmembers, with the exception of Stark, still mumbling. John tried to get his attention. "Stark?" No answer. "Yo, Stark?" Still no answer. "Hey, Zhaan, little help?"

Zhaan nodded and gently placed a hand on the Bannick's shoulder, as if to drag him into the land of the living. It seemed to work. He opened his eyes, stopped muttering, and smiled.

"Ready now?" Stark nodded. "Good. Now, I know you hate it when I do this, so I'll try and make it brief, but just so you know, this one isn't dangerous or life-threatening. However," he added, quickly. "That does not mean you can leave. Sit, Crais."

The Sebacean sighed heavily and sat down between Jool, who was still leaning on the console, and Aeryn, also sitting on the floor. John eyed him warily, judged the difference between them, and continued.

"You'll all remember about two monens ago when I told you about that Earth ceremony. First person to name it gets a prize!"

Aeryn was the only one who put her hand up; after looking around her, she self-consciously put it down again. John pointed to her and spoke in a cheesy game-show-host voice.

"The lady with the pulse pistol, what's the answer?"

"Kris-mass."

"Close enough. Glad to see at least one of you remembered." The others were unfazed by the comment, so he continued. "Anyway, this monen, on Earth, is called 'February', and today it's around about the sixth day of that monen. In February, we have a traditional day on the 14th called 'St. Valentine's Day.' I never much went in for it myself, but I figure it could be fun, and God knows, we need something to do!"

D'Argo tested the phrase in his mouth. "Sunt Fahllentyn's Day?"

"Again, close enough. And yes."

"Am I gonna have to decorate again?" asked Chiana. "Because that whole Kris-mass thing was frelling difficult to organise."

"As long as it's got food, I couldn't care less." That was Rygel, naturally.

"That's the spirit, Rygel…" said John, sarcastically.

"All right, John," ventured Aeryn, talking over the already chattering crewmates. "So explain this thing to us."

When the noise had died down again, he cleared his throat. "Well, I don't know the physics behind it, as it were, and over the years, the whole damn thing has become a commercial vehicle, and left thousands of teenagers broken-hearted for cycles. DK hated it with a passion. There was never anything in his mailbox. Me, on the other hand…" He seemed to drift off for a moment. Everyone looked completely bemused.

At that particular moment, Chiana's foot, which had been resting on the top on the console so she could rest her head on her knee, slipped, and slammed into Jool's back, hard. The Interon's hair glowed a vivid red, as she began to spin to face her, yelling:

"Will you stop frelling kicking me, you annoying little _tralk!!_"

Her intention was to smack Chiana good across the face, but, unfortunately, it didn't turn out that way. Instead, her foot caught on the tail of Crais' trench coat and she went flying. In the brief time it took her to realise this, however, she decided she wasn't hitting the ground alone, and grabbed Chiana by the leg.

They both descended with a shriek. Chiana ended up on the floor. Jool had a much softer landing, finding herself in Crais' lap, much to his annoyance. Aeryn (and everybody else) barely managed to repress their smiles at this, especially Pilot, who now had room to work again.

"Thank you, Joolushka," he said. Jool was too irritated to hear him, and still hadn't noticed where she was sitting.

Crais looked up in Pilot's direction. "Oh no, Pilot. I think you'll find the pleasure is all mine…" Jool finally figured it out, but made no discernible reaction. Crais waited two microts, and then… "GET OFF ME!"

Jool stood in a matter of nano-seconds and went back to where she'd been standing. When nobody said anything, she frowned. "Come on, Crichton. We haven't got all frelling day."

"Uh, yeah…" said John. "Where was I?"

"Something about broken hearts and mailboxes," offered Zhaan. Stark nodded.

"Oh. Thanks, Blue." He tried again. "Anyway, the whole point of the day is to show whoever it is you… uh… like… that you do." He was meant with blank faces. "It's like courting." Silence. "You don't do courting out here?" More silence. "That doesn't surprise me…" He attempted it one more time, by example. "Okay… let's say I like Aeryn." He was met, this time, by a collective groan (and possibly one from Harvey, too), but he continued. "It's _just_ an example. Okay, fine, I like _someone_, and I can't build up the courage to tell them, so instead, when the big V comes around, I give them a little something - a note, or a present - to let them know. Get it?"

There were various nods.

"It sounds utterly pointless," said D'Argo. "If you're not brave enough to tell the person you like them, you don't deserve their respect."

"You're a true romantic, D." John rolled his eyes and sighed. "Like I said, it's just a bit of fun. Nobody ever takes it seriously, anyway."

"Well," said Crais, "it can't possibly get any more tedious around here. I'm willing to participate."

Everybody stared at him, open-mouthed. John was the first to recover.

"Great! Come on, guys! If Crais can lower himself to one of my crazy ideas, it can't be that bad, right?" They all exchanged glances. "It won't hurt you, for God's sake! Just humour me!"

"It sounds like a wonderful idea, John," said Zhaan, smiling. "I would be happy to join in, too."

"Me too, me too!" enthused Stark now that Zhaan had offered.

"That's three. How about the rest of you?"

Pilot, still multi-tasking, and without looking up, said, "Moya is curious, therefore, I will also participate."

"Nice one, Pilot!"

"I guess I'm in, too," said Chiana. "If D'Argo is." The Luxan sighed, but nodded his assent anyway.

"It sounds fahrbot," complained Rygel. "But if I must, I must."

Jool shrugged. "Whatever."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'…" said John, and did a mental head count. Everyone had agreed now, except for the one person he'd planned this whole thing for. Without her, he wasn't going ahead with it. "Aeryn?"

The ex-Peacekeeper looked up at him. For a fleeting, horrible moment, he thought she was going to refuse. Instead, she shrugged. "Much as I know I'm going to regret this… I suppose-"

He didn't let her finish. "Yes!"

"So what, exactly, will this entail?" asked Crais, apparently bored enough to be interested as well.

"If you'll all bear with a me a few more microts, I'll let you know…"

Mildly annoyed that their escape had been thwarted again, everybody settled down again to listen as John explained what they had to do.


	4. It Has Begun

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CHAPTER FOUR - **It Has Begun**

Approximately an arn later, John had finished explaining what was supposed to happen, and had released everyone from Pilot's den. They were all discussing the situation in small groups as they made their way to their respective destinations.

Aeryn and D'Argo headed the line of people. The Luxan, despite agreeing to go along with the idea, did not sound particularly impressed.

"This all sounds completely pointless," he complained. "As are most of Crichton's ideas. I can't believe I let Chiana rope me into this."

"It'll all be over in a weeken, D'Argo," said Aeryn, attempting to keep the peace. "You know how he gets. Just humour him; it'll make everyone's lives easier."

"You're right, I suppose." There was a pause. "Of course, you know _why_ he's doing this, don't you?"

"Unfortunately, I do…"

Further back, Jool and Chiana were similarly discussing the situation, with the same confusion and disdain evident in their voices.

"I don't get it," admitted the Interon.

"Me neither. All I know is, I could get a present outta this." Chiana grinned. "Hey, sorry about kicking you before."

"It's okay."

"My foot slipped." At which point, Jool kicked her in the shin. "Hey!"

"Sorry. So did mine."

Jool smiled and walked on ahead, putting enough distance between them should Chiana decide to give chase.

Crais was discussing the situation with Rygel.

"Have you noticed" said the Hynerian, "how all of Crichton's 'traditions' involve the giving and receiving of gifts?"

"I had indeed. His must be a very generous culture."

"Generous!" he scoffed. "I think not! They're all money-grabbing and power-hungry."

"In that case, Dominar… why do you two not get along?"

Rygel harrumphed, and speeded up his throne sled away from Crais.

Bringing up the rear of the group was Zhaan, Stark and John. The Delvian Pa'u seemed to be the most interested in the plan.

"It sounds like a wonderful tradition, John." She smiled. "A celebration of love. I can see why you wanted us to partake in this."

"Actually, I just figured it would stop the overhanging boredom around here," he said. "But I'm glad you like it, Blue. I thought you would, actually."

"I like it, too," said Stark, somewhat indignantly. "My something is going to go to Zhaan."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!! You're not meant to tell me…" Seeing the hurt look on his face, John added. "But I guess your choice was pretty obvious, Stark, so I'll let you off."

"In all fairness, John," laughed Zhaan. "I think your choice is obvious, too." John said nothing, looking for all the world like he wanted a hole to appear in Moya's floor and suck him into oblivion. "Don't worry," she reassured him. "I'm sure Aeryn will appreciate the gesture."

John could do nothing but stand there and let the two of them walk on ahead. He wondered when he'd become quite so transparent. His question was answered almost immediately.

"I think it was… oh, about three months ago."

"Shut up, Harvey."

"I'm very hurt that you didn't even think to include me in the proceedings."

"Who'd give you a Valentine?"

"I don't know. But it's the principle of the thing."

"Whatever…"

"For all you know, I might have a Valentine of my own in mind."

"You don't have a mind, you're a figment of my imagination."

"Oh, really. Well would a figment be able to do this?" Harvey punched the inside of John's skull, hard, causing him to wince. Then he did it again, harder.

John nursed his head and tried to rub away the ache that seemed to emanate from his brain. "Hey! Stop it! I get the idea." Harvey ignored him and started kicking, petulantly, like a small child who'd been refused a toffee. John very quickly thought himself inside his head. "I said," he repeated, "stop it." With that, he hurled Harvey into the dumpster again, brushed off his hands, and started to think about what he was going to create for Aeryn…


	5. (The Presents) Zhaan and Crais

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THE PRESENTS

CHAPTER FIVE - Zhaan and Crais

John had given everybody a weeken in which to find, prepare, cajole, snurch, or make whatever present they were going to hand to whoever they had chosen. He had provided them with very strict rules - they were only allowed to make one thing, for one person, and there were to be no exceptions.

Zhaan, being Zhaan, was completely unable to decide who to give her present to. She supposed it ought to go to Stark; they were soul mates, after all, and she now knew that she was going to receive something from him. She should, therefore, return the gesture. That would be the courteous and expected thing to do.

Her thoughts then turned to D'Argo. Sweet D'Argo, who had always been there for her, and who was so much more than met the eye. Should she make something for him? She loved Stark, but, in an entirely different way, she adored D'Argo, and thought she ought to show her appreciation for him.

But then again… there was John. They had shared Unity, after all. Would it be more appropriate to offer him a gift? Perhaps something that reflected the bond they shared?

The Delvian sighed, the indecision confusing her. What about Pilot? Everyone would be sure to forget him, no matter how much they claimed to value him. Or Moya? She dearly loved Moya. In fact… Zhaan loved everyone: John, D'Argo, Stark, Pilot, Aeryn, Chiana, Moya, Jool… she was even becoming fond of Rygel and Crais.

Zhaan moved to the window of her quarters and looked out. The stars always calmed her and cleared her head. The ritual John had described was meant to be fun, just something to pass the time for a weeken… but where matters of the heart were concerned for Zhaan, it was not to be taken lightly. John had strictly told them that they were only allowed to give one gift to one person, otherwise it defeated the point of the exercise. She wanted to give a gift to everybody!

Just when she was beginning to think "Sunt Fahllentyn's Day" was a very silly tradition, she was struck by a brainwave.

She smiled to herself and positioned herself, cross-legged, on the floor. The recipient had been decided on. All she had to do now was come up with an appropriate gift…

Crais was pacing again. He had absolutely no idea what had possessed him to agree with Crichton's idea. Boredom could make a man do strange things. Truth be told, he hadn't really been paying attention; all he really knew was that he had to give something to someone, and, apparently, the someone had to be a person he liked.

So, he was pacing, trying to work out who he liked enough to give them a present. His immediate thought was Aeryn. At least there was mutual respect (or, at the very least, he thought there was.) Then, he considered that Crichton would have had the exact same idea, and he didn't feel like getting into yet another argument with him over the subject of Officer Sun. Besides… he knew Aeryn wouldn't return the gesture.

So who? The Delvian? He didn't… not like her. Well, everyone liked Zhaan. Zhaan liked everyone. Therefore, she should have been the obvious choice… but she seemed somehow _too_ obvious.

Crais turned and walked back across the room again, frustrated. Silly human rituals.

The Nebari. She was certainly… appealing. However, he refused to lower himself to act on those kind of feelings. Perhaps he could simply 'forget' about it, and get out of it later… He was a Captain! He shouldn't be obligated to follow Crichton's orders!

The next time he turned, something caught his eye in a nearby box. It made him stop, suddenly, in his tracks, and move over to examine it more closely. Once he'd pulled it free, careful not to damage it, he began to rethink his options…


	6. Stark, Rygel and Pilot

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CHAPTER SIX - Stark, Rygel and Pilot

Two tiers down, Stark was pacing along one of Moya's corridors, muttering to a DRD. He was worried. John knew that he was going to give Zhaan a gift, and so did she… but now, he had no idea what that gift was going to be. Nothing would be grand enough, nor beautiful enough, nor mystical enough for Zhaan. Anything he might give would pale in comparison to anything she might give. He was a poor Bannick slave, he knew nothing of grandeur or riches. What does one give to a ninth level Pa'u to show how much one appreciates her? Present-giving was not something he was accustomed to.

He did, however, know about love. And he knew that he loved Zhaan. He was pretty sure that Zhaan loved him back, too. He was hoping that, perhaps, Zhaan would give _him_ a present, that maybe all the love she had inside her would focus primarily on him. He thought, however, that this was probably a vast over-assumption on his part.

Stark had create a little game for himself in the corridor. Every time he paced and completed a lap, he would utter either "She loves me," or "She loves me not," alternating between the two. If he accidentally tripped over the DRD that was patrolling the area, he would assume that whatever he said last was the truth. If Fate meant for Zhaan to love him, then it would tell him in such a manner.

The fact remained, though, that he had no idea what he was going to give her…

Rygel had all but forgotten about Crichton's plan, and it only came back to him when he saw the blurred form of Stark running past his door, shouting something about "She doesn't love me… no, it can't be true!" He laughed gruffly, then hovered his Throne Sled over to shut the door.

So, Crichton expected him, Rygel XVI, Dominar of over a billion subjects, to get someone else a present? Ridiculous. He did not give presents, he received them.

In fact, he was certain that his high political status meant that everybody on board Moya would be humble enough to succumb and give him something from each of them. Suddenly, Crichton's plan seemed a lot more palatable.

Rygel smiled, imagining all the gifts he was going to be rolling in come a weeken's time…

Everything was quiet in Pilot's Den, just how he liked it. Of course, he could hear Moya. He could always hear Moya, but her sounds were pleasurable to his senses… unlike the harsh voices of the crew when they gathered near his panel. He had to be in the correct mood to cope with them, and his moods depended entirely on Moya's moods. She was apparently as bored as the rest of them, which is why Pilot had agreed to partake in the Commander's strange Erp ritual.

He moved his entire body to the right, keeping one of his left arms in contact with the panel, compensating for the changes and movements of the Leviathan. At least, he supposed, this ritual did not involve being decorated with "tins-ul" and "bar-bulls"; he could never figure out why Crichton had found it so amusing to pretend he was some kind of foliage, and had gone along with it in the end to keep the peace.

Pilot already knew whom he was going to bestow his gift upon. As with everybody else, however, he was having trouble coming up with the gift in question, even with hundreds of DRDs at his disposable…

His reverie was broken by Stark running into the Den with one of the DRDs in his hands, apparently frantic about something. The Bannick ambled forwards and dropped the little robot in front of Pilot on the panel.

"What is the matter, Stark?" he asked.

"She doesn't love me…" came the moaned reply.

Pilot looked suspiciously at the DRD, and decided to humour him. "Um… by what means did you discover this?"

Stark looked pained and indicated the DRD, which was trundling along the top of the panel trying to find a way down. "Fate told me so. Fate… yes… fate… knows everything…" He trailed off.

Pilot continued to watch the DRD; it was now attempting to lower itself to the ground by some kind of rope, making it resemble a sort of arachnid without legs. The rope snapped, and there was a crunch as it hit the ground. It rolled away, unfazed. Pilot returned his gaze to Stark, and waved a clawed hand in front of his eyes to stop him mumbling. Stark focussed. "You believe that Pa'u Zotoh no longer loves you?" A nod. "And you say that… Fate told you this?" Another nod. Pilot sighed. This was unproductive. Then, Moya relayed back to him what the little DRD had told her, and he understood. "Well… I'm not an expert in these matters, but I do know Zhaan very well, and I believe she would never lie to anyone… especially not someone who is as special to her as you are, Stark."

Something brightened in Stark's devastated eyes and he looked almost gleeful. "She loves me? She still loves me?"

"To the best of my knowledge, yes."

"Thank you, Pilot. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!"

With that, he ran back out of the Den, leaving a very bewildered Pilot behind him. When the silence descended again, he breathed a sigh of relief and returned to what he was doing. Between all the myriad sounds and sensations, Moya transferred a feeling reserved only for Pilot. He smiled.

"Yes, Moya. The feeling is mutual."


	7. Jool and Chiana

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CHAPTER SEVEN - Jool and Chiana

A flash of orange hair could be seen swooping through one of the cargo bays as a figure scooted about, searching. It disappeared, bending down to look inside a large container. On the other side of the room, a similarly shaped, but distinctly grey, figure was ambling between two large boxes. Each was unbeknownst to the other.

Jool was practically inside the box by the time she found what she was looking for. She was bent over the edge, one foot on the ground, and the other stuck out behind her in an attempt to balance, with her entire body from the waist up obstructed from view. She'd managed to clear a path inside the box to get to what she knew was in there. It was, annoyingly, just out of reach.

She strained a little further, standing on tiptoe with her remaining foot and leaning slightly more inside. Just as her fingers brushed the edge of the item, she completely lost her footing and tumbled head first into the box.

There was a muffled "Frell!" and then she sighed. At least now she could reach it, even though she'd been hoping to get at it without having to climb anywhere. She removed the hair from her face and cleared the last of the debris from on top of the object until she could prise it free.

To her dismay, it fell apart in her hands, the pressure of the box's contents having been on top of it for the last cycle finally taking its toll.

Jool resisted the overwhelming urge to scream and instead punched the base of the box in frustration. Hauling herself out again, she looked around. There had to be _something _she could use for a present. In a flash of inspiration, she saw something, smiled to herself, and made her way towards it.

On the other side of the room, Chiana was being incredibly unsuccessful in her hunt for a gift. Like Jool, she knew exactly who to give it to, and she had a pretty good idea of what to give, but she was frelled if she could find anything. Just when she was considering going to Aeryn's quarters to see what she could snerch, she spotted it…

It was lying on top of a pile of containers, glinting in the half-light. It was perfect! The only drawback was that it was very high up and potentially hazardous. Luckily, Chiana liked climbing. This was going to be easy.

She began to hum something as she made her way over to the pile of metal boxes. She examined them carefully, making sure they were safe to climb, and then began her ascent. Within microts, she was stuck, unable to see how to get down again, and similarly unable to find another foothold to go any higher. She cursed to herself. She could see the object from her position… if she could just move a fraction of a metra to her right…

She shuffled, tenaciously, and, holding firm with her left hand, reached out the other to make a grab for the item. Instead of the cool metal she had been anticipating, she came in contact with someone else's hand. She screamed. So did the hand's owner, with an unmistakable, metal-melting noise.

"YOU!?" they both yelled, then held tighter onto the now teetering tower of boxes. Whatever Jool had melted this time, it had obviously affected the containers.

"Now look what you did!" accused Chiana, as they swayed.

"Me?" Jool's hair flashed red. "You were the one who scared me!"

"_I _scared _you_?" The tower wobbled again, and they clung on tighter. "What are you doin' up here, anyway?"

The Interon said nothing for a few microts, and then: "I should ask you the same thing." Chiana huffed. They were both stuck, and this wasn't helping. All they could do was wait until they either fell off, died of starvation, or got saved. She was rooting for the latter. Then, she noticed Jool was eyeing the same object she'd been trying to get.

"Hey! I saw it first!"

"Did not!"

"Did, too!"

"Oh, that's mature, Chiana."

"You started it."

Jool sighed. This was getting them nowhere fast. "Who do you want it for?"

"Yeah, like I'm gonna tell you." A pause. "What about you?"

"Tell you what, if you can guess, you can have it."

"Really?" Chiana liked the sound of that. She didn't particularly enjoy guessing games, but as there was a wager involved, she was willing to try. "Okay, you're on. Same to you if I get it wrong."

"Well, technically, I get it if you get it wrong, anyway…" Jool didn't finish the thought when she caught Chiana's look.

The two shook hands, gingerly. Chiana thought very carefully before she answered. "Hmm… okay… it's for… John?"

Jool grinned. "Wrong."

"Frell!" Chiana sighed. There went that beautiful plan. "Go on, then, take it."

"Do I still get to guess yours?" asked Jool, carefully taking the item and examining it. Chiana shrugged in a "Go ahead" fashion. She looked thoughtful. "Let's see… who might you be giving this to?" She looked at it, then Chiana, and cocked her head to the side. "John?"

"Nope."

Jool shrugged. "Oh well, I get it anyway."

"Frell you, Jool." Chiana chose that moment to smack her companion around the head… which, of course, resulted in tipping the already precarious balance of the tower of containers. They both headed ground-wards, screaming in unison as they did, and landing with two very loud thuds.

"Ow…"

Then, before Jool could retaliate, they both had to roll out of the way of the containers that were about to crush them.

When the dust settled, Chiana was the first to recover. Protruding from underneath one of the smaller boxes was a much larger, newer, and generally more aesthetically pleasing version of the prize she had lost to Jool. She swiftly grabbed it, hid it about her person, then went to help her up.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Oh, nothing. Here, I'll give you a hand up."

Chiana hauled Jool to her feet, then turned and left her, still smiling.

"What did you do, Chiana?" No answer. "Chiana?" The Nebari walked silently through the door. "Get back here!"


	8. D'Argo, John and Aeryn

****

CHAPTER EIGHT - D'argo, John and Aeryn

Ka D'Argo was having problems. For starters, he was pretty sure that Rygel had been snooping in his quarters again. Secondly, he was still annoyed with Chiana for getting him roped into yet another of Crichton's stupid ideas. Thirdly, he just couldn't decide, out of the two people he'd narrowed his choices down to, who to bestow his carefully fashioned gift upon.

He huffed and rechecked the readings on the console in front of him. He'd come to Command in an attempt to think, uninterrupted. Unfortunately, once Pilot knew he was in there, he'd been assigned the task of keeping an eye on Moya's systems. Pilot's tone had been too authoritative for him to refuse.

A panel blipped. D'Argo went over to see, compensated for the problem, then stood staring at the lights and buttons for several microts. He supposed it would be easiest to see which of his two choices gave him something first. This also held its own problems, though. What if he didn't get anything? What if he had to go first?

The Luxan sighed, and, for what seemed like the fiftieth time, began to make a mental list of attributes for each of them.

It didn't help much. They were both, in his opinion, beautiful, intelligent, tolerating, and, above all, saw the good in him where others couldn't. He tried thinking of bad qualities. They both had a tendency to talk too much… and boss people around…

__

Oh, frell it all! he thought. He'd just go with his instincts when the time came.

He was just about to check another panel when he heard voices coming from the corridor. He strained to hear as they got closer, and then pretended he wasn't listening when they came through the door, argument in full swing.

"I'm sorry, John, but I just don't understand."

"Why do you think I was trying to explain it to you?"

Aeryn sighed. "Fine. Explain."

"No," said John, petulantly. Aeryn threw her arms up in exasperation and moved over to another console. She threw a brief glance at D'Argo.

"Pilot says you can go now, D'Argo, and he thanks you for helping."

The Luxan nodded and vacated the area while it was still safe to do so without getting caught in the crossfire. Aeryn, not looking at John, expertly continued with what D'Argo had been doing.

"Fine, don't explain. Like I give a frell…"

"You could at least humour me, Aeryn. That's all I ask."

"All you ask?! All we ever frelling _do_ is humour you, Crichton!"

John couldn't think of a retort, so changed tactic. "Okay. So maybe I've been taking a few liberties lately with all my Earth customs-"

"Liberties?" She turned to face him. "They'd be liberties if you didn't involve us. They'd be _liberties _if they were just personal indulgences. But they're not. You drag us all along with you whether we're willing or not, and it's not funny any more!"

"You know," he said, frowning, "you could just say 'no'."

Aeryn had lost count of exactly how many times she'd tried that, but didn't say anything about it. "It just seems like all we've done this past cycle is what _you've_ wanted, trying to fit around _your _stupid rituals and _your_ stupid language and mannerisms and-"

"Whoa, there, missy!" he shouted, trying to defend himself. She gave him a "Well?" expression. "Before you mouth off at me about adapting to my lifestyle, spare a couple of thoughts for what it's like on my side of my life, okay? I got shot to the wrong part of the damn universe and have spent the last however many frelling cycles it is trying to adapt to life here, with _your _language and customs."

"And?" she asked, unimpressed. She'd heard this particular rant far too many times.

"And… well… maybe this is payback for all the times you guys called me stupid, or deficient, or slow, or-"

"Frelling talkative?"

"Yeah. My point exactly." He gestured at her. "And anyway, who are you to call me talkative. Anyone would be 'frelling talkative' compared to you." He stopped. "I've forgotten what we were even arguing about."

"Does it matter?"

John didn't answer her at first. In the silence, Aeryn turned back to the console to continue her work before Pilot wondered what was going on. "No, wait, I do remember."

"Oh, please, do enlighten me," she prompted, sarcastically. He ignored her tone of voice.

"You said you weren't going to participate after all."

"Oh, yes. So I did. And then you blew up about it." She smirked, enjoying provoking him.

"I did not bl-" He stopped, took a deep breath, and tried again. "Yeah. Okay. I did. And as usual, between us, the whole thing gets yanked completely out of proportion. But I still maintain that you can't go back on what you said. Even Crais is still going ahead with it, for God's sake."

"Don't pull the Crais line on me, John. You know it doesn't work." A sigh. "I know you were only trying to give us all something to do, but… unlike most of the other things you've described, this seems completely pointless."

"Does it have to have a point?" As anticipated, he received her "human nonsense" look in response. "Actually, it does have a point. As I explained in the first place." She seemed vaguely satisfied with that answer. "Come on, Aeryn. Just help me out on this one, and I promise not to inflict any more of my Earth crap on you again…"

He put on his very best lost-puppy face (even though the metaphor was probably something very strange in the Uncharteds) and she finally conceded, smiling. "Fine. But this is the last time."

"Thanks." Aeryn rolled her eyes and returned to her work a second time. "Now remember, one present only. You've only got the rest of today to sort it out, so look sharp."

She was learning to ignore microbe hiccups. "Where will everybody be?"

"The Terrace, right after dinner. Be there or be square."

With that, he bounded out of the door, leaving Aeryn to think about her own gift. John, of course, had been prepared for monens…


	9. And This Gift Goes To...

****

CHAPTER NINE - And This Gift Goes To…

The next day, at the allotted time, everyone was gathered on the Terrace. Everyone, that is, except Aeryn. John was getting worried - she was never late, and she knew what time they were supposed to be meeting. He gave her the benefit of doubt and decided to wait a while before he commed her.

When everyone was settled around the room, with similarly devious expressions on their faces, and avoiding all eye-contact with each other, John cleared his throat.

"May I have your attention, please?" All eyes turned to him. "Okay, here we go, people! Let's do this in reverse alphabetical order."

"Why?" asked Jool.

"Because," was the reply. "That means you're first, Blue."

Zhaan smiled, and produced something from behind her back. "Thank you. I hope you'll forgive me, John, but I found this particular custom one of the most difficult yet. I was only able to follow one of your rules - as you can see, there is only one present here. However…" She smiled, sheepishly. "I was unable to decide who to give it to. I love you all, in very different ways. So this…" She pulled the silk-like cover off the object. "…is my gift to you."

In front of her stood a small, statuesque… thing. Nobody but Zhaan seemed to know what it was. It was approximately a foot high and resembled something that was half-person and half-rock. They all looked at it curiously, and then at Zhaan.

"What is it?" asked Crais.

"It's a Delvian good luck charm… but not in the traditional sense. Instead of carrying it with you, you come to it when you need good fortune."

"So how's it work?" That was Chiana.

"You simply… wish."

"It's a mini-wishing well…" noted John. "Aw, Zhaan. That's very thoughtful." There was a general murmur of agreement. "Even though you cheated, I'll let you off… Right, next up is you, Spanky."

Rygel brought his throne sled slightly forwards. "Even though I agreed to this, I could think of nobody I particularly wanted to give a gift to… excepting myself. Which is why I present this lovely box of food cubes to Dominar Rygel XVI…"

"Wait a minute," said John. "Hold the phone… you're telling me you're giving a Valentine to yourself?" Rygel smiled self-satisfactorily. "Get the hell outta here!"

"Gladly…" Rygel vacated the area, food cubes and all.

"Anyway, Stark, you're next."

The Bannick looked slightly nervous, then cleared his throat. "Well, my gift is for Zhaan, obviously." He turned to face her. "I'm sorry, but… I'm not accustomed to giving and receiving gifts… the only thing I've ever given is the chance for lost souls to pass over…" He stopped to think. "I'm afraid I can't even give you my gift… not yet, anyway. I offer you this:" He gestured to indicate the mask he always wore. "In the event that something should happen to me, I want you to have my mask… and, should anything happen to you, I promise to see you safely where you belong."

Stark looked petrified after he'd said this… until Zhaan placed a hand over his, and he smiled. John smiled, too, along with everyone else, in spite of themselves.

"Wow, Stark… never knew you had it in you. Big romantic fool." He grinned. "'Kay, Pilot, you're up next. Sorry you couldn't be here, but we figured there wasn't much room in the Den."

"Perfectly understandable, Commander."

"So who've you chosen?"

"The decision was an easy one to make. I choose Moya." There was a unanimous 'aw' from the group on the Terrace. "And my gift is to be the best Pilot I can be. Moya deserves much better, but I will endeavour to make myself worthy of her." More 'aw's.

"Damn, Pilot… you got me all choked up," said John. "The next on the list would be Moya… what's she say?"

There was a pause.

"That… is between Moya and I."

Everyone laughed.

"Okay… Jool, you're next."

The Interon looked almost as nervous as Stark. She cleared her throat unnecessarily, then stood up. "I'm really embarrassed about this, okay? So nobody laugh." She deliberately ignored Chiana as she said this. "It also took me ages to find this frelling present, and my backside still hurts from where I fell, so you'll forgive me if I'm a little irritable."

"Fell?" asked D'Argo.

"It's a long story…" said Chiana, which confused him even more. Jool continued.

"Anyway, here it is." She pulled the present from a pocket about her person - it was a small dagger, about four inches in length, with a black handle, which she'd managed to shine up to a bright finish. Holding it carefully, she stepped forwards… heading directly towards Crais.

He appeared to be as surprised as everybody else in the room.

Jool began to fidget. "I'm not good at speeches… but I noticed that you must have lost your old dagger somewhere, since there's an empty sheath for one next to your pulse pistol holster… So, I saw this, and I thought… Captain Crais might like this, to replace his old one." There was silence, and then she added: "I even cleaned it."

Crais, luckily, took the dagger from her and sheathed it. "Thank you… Very thoughtful."

"It doesn't mean I like you, or anything… I just thought you'd appreciate it."

"I do… I mean, I do appreciate it."

There was a hideously awkward silence, and then John broke it. "See, that's what this is all about! Making new buddies."

Thankful to be saved, Jool sat back down again. Crais watched her, partly dubious, and partly curious, before tearing his gaze back to John, attempting to feign interest.

"Next up is me." _Damn, where is she? _he thought, looking around. "But… uh… my recipient isn't here, so we'd better move on… D'Argo."

D'Argo, still undecided, did a mental coin-toss by closing his eyes and thinking of the first name that came to mind. When he did, he wasn't that surprised. He opened his eyes again and brought out his gift.

"This is a Luxan decoration, an ornament. It belonged to Lo-lann's grandmother and she gave it to me… so now I'm giving it away." He walked over to Chiana, who grinned. "It's always been a source of inner strength for me and I hope it will provide the same for you, Chiana."

She squealed happily and hugged him after taking the ornament. "Thank you, D'Argo. It's lovely."

John smirked. "See, even cynics can have fun on Valentine's Day." D'Argo scowled again, but it didn't last long when he saw how happy Chiana was. "Okay, Crais. Let's see what you got."

The ex-Captain, without realising, looked across the room and held Jool's gaze a fraction of a microt too long, before looking at Crichton. He was about to say something when he appeared to have a minor heart attack, and froze before he could say anything. He swallowed, nervously.

"Actually… I… forgot all about this."

"You forgot?"

"I did. I apologise." Nobody else seemed to notice the positively murderous look that Jool threw at him. He flinched slightly.

John frowned. "Well, okay, Crais… in _theory_, what would you have given and who would it go to?" There was no answer. Instead, Crais sat sulking, and eventually, John gave up. "You're useless…" He sighed. "Chiana?"

The Nebari stood up slowly and walked over towards D'Argo. "Well," she said, "I know how much you like weapons, D'Argo, so I saw this, and I thought it would be perfect for you." She pulled out a larger version of the dagger Jool had acquired, clearly part of a set. "Even if you don't use it, I figure you could maybe put it on your wall, or something."

"Thank you, Chiana." D'Argo took the blade, examined it, and secured it near his Qualta Blade.

"And finally…" said John, talking into his comms. "Aeryn?" No answer. "Aeryn, if you're there, get yourself down to the damn Terrace." Still no answer. "Frell, fine." He huffed. "I guess you can all go now."

The assembled group all stood and filed off the Terrace, not sure whether to feel sorry for John or be amused by the dejected look on his face. Zhaan was the last to leave, staying behind to offer some moral support.

"John, don't worry," she said. "I'm sure you will manage to sort something out."

"Yeah, I know, Zhaan…"

The Delvian nodded sagely, patted him on the shoulder, and walked off to join the others. John stayed sitting on the Terrace, staring out into space, thinking. As usual, just when he didn't need any company, Harvey took it upon himself to start offering advice. He appeared behind him and hovered just to his right.

"Did you really think it would work, John?"

"Just what I need. Advice from Aunt Harvey." He resisted the urge to punch him as he walked around to .

"Less of the sarcasm, if you please."

"What do you want?"

"Merely to offer moral support." John looked up, raised an eyebrow, and gave him a very obvious "Pull-the-other-one" look. Harvey looked vaguely nervous, and cleared his throat. "All right, there is something else. In light of Officer Sun's non-appearance and obvious disinterest in your plan, I thought I might attempt to cheer you up."

"Go ahead. Gimme your best shot," said John, not really interested.

"A gift…" he said, and suddenly manifested a very large bunch of roses. Blue roses.

"What the…"

"For my valentine."

John blinked as the information registered. It seemed to take four times longer than it should do. He scrabbled to his feet and backed off as fast as it was physically possible to do so. "Excuse me??"

"I should have been between you and the Luxan, really, but since you managed to conveniently forget about me…"

"Hold the phone, Harvey!" said John, still backing away. "Just… just… no. Okay? No."

With that, he promptly legged it, leaving a very upset Harvey behind him. He had to find Aeryn before he went insane, and whatever her reason for not turning up was, it had better be a frelling good one.

__

(Endnote: I am NOT a John/Harvey-er. The Harvey gift-giving thing was a request by the aforementioned very strange friend. Blame her… Also, anything which gets misconstrued is entirely the fault of the reader. I am not responsible for my actions…)


	10. Green Eyed Girl

****

CHAPTER 10 - Green Eyed Girl

Jool was annoyed, but she didn't know why. For some reason, she had assumed that because she gave something to Crais, she might get something in return. She didn't necessarily want anything specifically off Crais, and hadn't even been thinking about it, but when the time actually came for him to give out a present, she found herself hoping it would be for her.

That annoyed her even more than the fact that she hadn't received anything. Zhaan's wish-thing didn't count. Why, suddenly, was she irritated that Crais had blatantly ignored her? He was _looking_ at her, wasn't he? Usually, that meant something.

She was stupid, she decided. She was stupid, stupid, stupid. Give Crais a present, indeed. He was part of the reason she couldn't frelling sleep at night with his damn snoring.

Frustrated, she kicked a bulkhead. One of Moya's DRDs bleeped accusingly at her and then Pilot's voice filtered over the comm.

"Joolushka. Please refrain from doing that."

"Sorry, Pilot."

She threw herself onto the bed, deliberately banging on the adjoining wall to Crais' quarters as she did so. She would wait for him to apologise to her, even if she had to wait forever.

On the other side of the wall, Crais looked in the direction of the bang and frowned. Jool was annoyed with him. He supposed she had a right to be, and he knew he should go over and apologise. On the other hand, he wasn't obligated to do so in any way. That didn't stop him feeling incredibly guilty, however.

He placed a hand in his pocket and found the gift he'd neglected to hand out, and was suddenly struck with the incentive to go over there and apologise… even though he wasn't entirely sure what to apologise for.

He took a deep, calming breath, and strode purposefully out of his quarters. He turned a sharp right and practically marched the short distance to Jool's door, then pounded on it three times. After five microts, it slid open, and she emerged, arms folded, looking unimpressed.

"What do _you_ want?"

"I… came to apologise."

"Oh? For what?"

"I'm not entirely sure." Jool frowned. Crais shifted uncomfortably, then changed tactic. "Why are you annoyed with me?"

She twitched, almost imperceptibly. "Um… well… I got you that dagger, and then you… you… didn't return the gesture. I thought you might at least give me something in return."

"Oh." His hand tightened around the small object in his pocket.

"And another thing," said Jool, suddenly on a roll. "All the time we were on the Terrace, you kept catching my eye, and it's frelling annoying because I just don't know why you were doing it, because you didn't follow it up in any way…"

"Jool…"

"… and if you're going to keep staring at someone, it's usually a nice thing to tell them why you're doing it!"

"I wasn't staring at you, you were staring at me!"

"I was _not_!"

"Are you always this argumentative?"

Jool stopped, stumped. "Uh…"

"Jool, I didn't come here to fight with you over something this trivial." He paused, and pulled out the object from his pocket. "I came to give you this… as I was going to do on the Terrace."

"Why didn't you?"

"I… you… I was scared."

The Interon smirked, amused, then examined what she now held in her hand. It was a necklace on a gold chain, with a single green gem hanging from it, the exact same colour as her eyes. She was momentarily struck speechless, and then she looked up to see Crais awaiting a reaction.

"Where did you…?"

"I found it behind a wall panel in my quarters. I assume Rygel hid it in there the last time we were boarded, and he's obviously forgotten about it, so… well, I hope you like it."

"I do. Thanks." There was a pause. "Help me put it on?"

She handed it back and turned, lifting her hair so he could fasten it around her neck. For some reason, it seemed to take him four attempts. "Sorry," he explained. "I'm not used to this sort of thing."

"So I see," she said, turning back around. "How's it look?"

Crais took a while to answer. Then, quite obviously not looking at the necklace, but directly at her, he said, "Lovely…"


	11. Everything I Do...

__

A/N: Okay, here's the shippy bit =) which I will endeavour to keep control over, as my shippy scenes have a tendency to go off on their own… Enjoy! (Oh, and I stole the end scene image from "Mind the Baby" since my two Muses [who actually ARE John and Aeryn] decided to desert me and run off to do… *ahem* something considerably less productive than helping me with the fic. By the time they came back, they were in no state to come up with anything coherent… Sorry about that…)

****

CHAPTER ELEVEN - Everything I Do…

Three arns after the meeting on the Terrace, John was still looking for Aeryn. In a last-ditch attempt, he returned to the Terrace, just in case she'd ventured in there. All he found was Zhaan's good luck charm. He laughed to himself, wondering if there was anything she could do that wasn't immensely thoughtful, and moved towards it. _Something's gotta work around here,_ he thought. He made a wish that it would all go vaguely well when he finally found Aeryn, then went to the only other place he could think of…

As expected, he found her in Pilot's Den. His initial plan had been to forcibly drag her out of there and confront her about her lack of appearance earlier, or at the very least, talk it through with her. That plan was thwarted when he saw that she was deep in conversation with Pilot, so instead, he kept as quiet as possible and moved until he could hear what they were saying.

"Commander Crichton has been looking for you," noted Pilot. "His comms have been off for half an arn and, to be honest, I have stopped tracking him. He could be anywhere."

Aeryn shrugged. "Well, then, he'll find me eventually. Doubtless he wants to talk."

Pilot nodded. "Why did you not attend the meeting on the Terrace?"

John chose that moment to risk his life and approach. "Yeah, that's what I'd like to know."

"I wondered how long it would take," she said, sighing. "If you really want to know, I'll tell you."

"I'm all ears." Before she could react, he added. "Forget it. Just tell me."

"Fine." She gestured for him to sit down. "The reason I wasn't on the Terrace was because I hadn't thought of anything until early this morning. Just so you know, I did hear everything that happened, and I believe it's my turn?" John nodded. "Good. My gift is for Pilot."

"Great," said John. "You know what? I'm just gonna go-"

"Stay right where you are, Crichton!" she ordered. "This concerns you as well…" John sat down, and waited. Aeryn placed a small, metallic object on top of Pilot's console. "I think you know what that is, Pilot."

"Yes," he admitted. "It's the chip with the history of my joining to Moya… and with your own history."

"And Velorek…" added John, not liking the direction of the conversation.

"And Velorek," clarified Aeryn. "My gift to you, Pilot… is this." In one swift movement, she picked up the chip and threw it off the ledge. It skimmed with a whistling sound, reflected the light briefly, and then disappeared from view.

"Officer Sun… Aeryn… I don't understand."

"That chip represented the past, everything that came between us. It's behind us, Pilot, and now I've seen to it that it never comes between us again."

Pilot placed a claw on her shoulder. "Thank you."

John was briefly shocked. He certainly hadn't anticipated something so meaningful to come from Aeryn, especially when she wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea… but then again, she was very good at surprising him. "Wow. Um… that's great, Aeryn, but what does it have to do with me?"

"Velorek." John put on an expression that implied he was repeating his question. "The past… my past." She indicated the chasm below. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" When he still didn't react, she very quickly vacated the area, annoyed that he didn't get it.

"Oh frell…" he muttered. "See ya, Pilot…" With that, he chased after her, as the realisation finally hit.

Halfway down the corridor, he caught up with her, grabbing her arm to stop her. "Hey, just stop a microt!" She did, wrenching herself from his grip in the process. "I don't exactly know what I did, but whatever it was… I'm sorry. Okay?"

"Fine. Can I go, now?"

"No, you can't." He received the look she reserved for him in these situations - the one that implied if he didn't explain himself fast, he was going to lose a limb. "I'm sure Pilot appreciates your gift… so do I. I promise…"

"Really?"

"Really, I do. I'm just slow on the uptake lately." He rubbed the back of his head. "Just, I'd appreciate it if the next time you don't turn up for something like this, you'd at least tell me."

Then, it all started going horribly wrong.

"Oh. Do I answer to you, now?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it." They both sighed. "If you want it, my present was for you…"

"Go on, then. Show me," Aeryn conceded. John reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out her locket, which he'd cleaned, re-chained, and re-hinged. It looked almost new. She took it off him. "Where did you get this?"

"Rygel stole it, I got it back, and I thought I'd clean it up for you."

"Thank you."

Aeryn examined it, then started to put it on. John got there first. "Here, I'll do it." He fastened it expertly behind her neck, then moved away again, knowing he was too close for her comfort. He attempted to decipher her reaction. She had thanked him, but didn't sound or look very happy about it.

"You hate it…"

He turned and began to walk away. Aeryn looked briefly exasperated, then called after him, annoyed.

"This was your frelling idea, Crichton! I didn't even want to take part. I only did this because _you _forced me into it, and because I really had to put everything with Pilot behind us. I did what you wanted - I found a gift, and I gave it to you and Pilot. What more do you want?" John's back was still facing her, and he said nothing. "Fine. That's it. Next time, celebrate your frelling traditions by yourself…"

She spun around at the same time he did, and stalked off, ignoring John as he called after her, following. "Why do you think I do this, Aeryn?" She stopped, but didn't answer. "For fun? Because I like being treated like the local village idiot? Because I enjoy getting my butt kicked either for you or _by _you?" There was still no reply. He moved closer, a lot nearer than he should. "I'll tell you why I frelling do this all the time… why I told you all about this… It's for you… everything… every single damn thing I do…" He took a deep breath that sounded almost pained. "And all this, today, this past weeken… was for you… because I love you, Aeryn… and you never even notice…"

John stopped then and didn't move a muscle, waiting for her to either kill him or walk away. Aeryn didn't turn, terrified of what she might do. In situations like this, she didn't trust herself or her emotions. To buy herself some time, she asked, "What?"

He moved even closer until he was right behind her, looking over her left shoulder, and he spoke close to her ear. "You heard me…" He manoeuvred around in front of her so he could face her, and when she looked down, he lifted her chin so their eyes met. "I love you."

He was finding it difficult to ascertain what her reaction was, and he was concentrating so hard on trying to read her expression that when she kissed him, it took him quite by surprise. It only took a few moments for him to react. Aeryn pulled away and looked at him. "You thought I hadn't noticed?" she asked, smiling. John nodded, in a minor state of shock. Quietly, she added, "I think you really _are_ insane…"

John smiled back. "Only because you've driven me to it…" He repaid her in kind by kissing her back, for longer this time, and pulled away only to check she was real and he wasn't dreaming. To further clarify it, he raised a hand to her cheek, then took her own hand in his other. "Come on…"

"Where are we going now?"

"Back to the Den. I should apologise to Pilot… I feel like such a jerk for running out of there."

"I'm sure he'll understand."

"Yeah, I know… but still…"

An arn later, they were still in Pilot's chamber, sitting on the floor. John had his back to the panel, and Aeryn was sitting in front of him, wrapped in his arms. Neither of them had said a word after John had apologised to Pilot, and he was beginning to think they might have fallen asleep. He sent a DRD around to check on them.

John spotted it first, and laughed. "It's okay, Pilot, we're still here…"

"I was just checking, Commander," Pilot clarified. "Although it appears Officer Sun is only _just_ here…"

"I'm fine, Pilot…" she said. "Just a little tired." The DRD went back to whatever task it had been previously assigned, and the room lapsed into silence once more. Aeryn leaned further against John and rested her head back on his shoulder. He kissed her temple, without realising he was doing it.

"You can sleep if you want, honey…"

Aeryn seemed to take him up on the offer, closing her eyes momentarily. Just when he thought she really was asleep, she spoke. "Thank you."

"Hm?"

"Thank you… for this. All of it… telling us about the tradition, for the locket… everything." She lifted her head again and shifted position slightly so she was almost facing him, and sitting sideways on. John moved himself, to compensate.

"Comfortable?" he asked. She nodded, and, now that she had better access, she kissed him again, then laid her head back on his shoulder. The last thing she said before succumbing to the pull of sleep was barely above a whisper.

"I love you…"

He squeezed her tighter, and simply sat there, contemplating how truly bizarre the day had been. There was still a niggling worry that it was all a dream and he would wake up in the same predicament as before - hopelessly in love with Aeryn and unable to tell her for fear of rejection or worse. The lightly breathing form in his arms, however, was a comforting reminder that it was all very real.

Just when he was lapsing into sleep himself, he sensed another presence in the room and pulled himself back into consciousness. He groaned quietly when he saw who it was.

"Damn, Harvey, just go away…"

The clone was still holding the blue roses, now very bedraggled, as if he'd been pulling them along the ground behind him. "So this is how you repay me, John?"

"Repay you for what?" He was trying to keep his voice down and be domineering at the same time, and was only partially successful at both.

"Everything… Who's been there for you when you were lonely and moping? Me, that's who. And you repay me with your rejection."

"Harvey… you should be glad, okay? No more intrusive, annoying thoughts about-" He stopped and lowered his voice as Aeryn stirred slightly. "About Aeryn…"

"But I got you flowers!"

"Big deal," he said. "You didn't get me _this_, so leave me alone."

Harvey put on his very best kicked-puppy expression and trudged back out of the Den, leaving the roses in the middle of one of the gangways as he did so. John knew he should feel some kind of sympathy for him - he was, after all, the only person who wasn't particularly happy with the outcome of his Valentine's Day idea - but he didn't have the energy to waste his thoughts.

He kissed the top of Aeryn's head, then leant back against Pilot's console, getting more comfortable. In a matter of microts, he was asleep, and unconsciously figuring out the next custom he could inflict on everyone…

****

~F~I~N~

__

All over!!! Sorry I couldn't get the whole thing up for Valentine's Day, but I completely ran out of time and Muse power. Plus, four-day "Farscape" marathons really frell your sleeping pattern up…

Thanks to all those who reviewed each chapter *looks at Eve* and keep your eyes peeled for more of the Horror Show, which is still fermenting in my head periodically… Plus, very soon, you'll be seeing my other parody - "Leviathan Rouge"…

Please review if you haven't already. Thank you and good night!


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